


Legal Jargon

by empires



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Feminization, M/M, Mild Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 12:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires
Summary: A legal au wherein nothing legal takes place.





	Legal Jargon

**Author's Note:**

> Quick dirty ditty written after a friend spied my tumblr tags.

After a staggering setback in today’s court argument, Dick was left with a list of reference cases to pull that was five feet in length. He wanted to fight it, wanted to point out that he’s a junior to the case, sure, but he certainly wasn’t a junior to the offices of Wayne & Dent, and certainly not in his own legal career, but he can’t. Bruce personally directed Dick to help the team and any outburst Dick makes will reflect poorly on him. It always does when you’re the boss’s son.

He winds up in gothic halls of Gotham Presbyterian University’s law library with the intent of pulling an all-nighter. It’s a reset of sorts, one he’s used before to knuckle down and gain focus on the task before him, and it usually works. Just not today.

The hours pass by and Dick makes no progress. No matter how many databases he trips through and heavy tomes he opens, the focus Dick craves is just out of reach. He rakes both hands through his hair hoping to soothe himself but that doesn’t work. He tries taking a quick walk around the floor, but there’s hardly anything interesting here. Outside himself and a hoodied head resting on a laptop, the floor is empty. Dick goes back to his table and stands there, hands on hips, considering his next move, but he can’t concentrate enough to figure that one out.

“I need coffee,” he mutters to himself.

Coffee. That’s it. He’ll go down to the Java Hut on the ground floor. He swiftly walks to the grand stairwell with it’s stone bannister and saunters down the four flights. 

The ground floor atrium is illuminated with stylized gas lights that cast shadows over the checkered floor. Java Hut is the brightest thing in the open room and Dick hurries to it like a moth ready to burn its wings on sweet, sweet coffee.

There are only six people in the store, Dick included. The two baristas are young and smile at him when he walks through the archway acting as the business’s entrance. “Welcome to Java Hut,” they call in unison. Dick nods in return hoping he’s just as enthused after his quad expresso shot.

Two patrons retrieve their orders leaving Dick staring at the menu with another caffeine-starved student. Dick glances the stranger beside him trying to determine if he was going to order or if Dick can sneak in before him. He glances again because the guy is tall, thick with muscle, and has a face Dick finds very attractive. Add tousled dark hair, a generous mouth, and Dick is wondering if he should feel him out. Their eyes meet, and the student’s, maybe even a grad student, Dick thinks hopefully, glass green eyes widen as if startled. He looks away and shrugs.

“Sorry, man,” he says in a raspy voice. “I still haven’t decided. You can go if you want.”

Dick smiles. “Thanks,” he says, reaching for his wallet. His wallet. Dick reaches into his other pocket and stifles a curse when he doesn’t encounter leather bound weight there either. “Shit.”

“You alright?” The student asks.

“Yeah, I am. I just.” Dick’s head drops down and he sighs. “You can go.” He turns on his heel and strides out missing the sounds of dismay from the Java Hut crew.

On the way back to the fourth floor, Dick recounts his steps. He remembers tossing the wallet into his car’s center console after lunch. More like “lunch.” He’d run to the deli to pick up sandwiches for the main team like he was an intern all over again. Dick can’t go out to the car and retrieve his wallet. If he goes out there, he’s not going to come back, and that’ll mean he wasted three hours the library hiding from his problems instead of spending three hours in the library attacking his problems head on. Sighing, he slumps back into his seat then immediately shakes himself.

“I don’t need coffee to do this,” he says firmly and grabs his notebook and pen.

Five minutes later, Dick is stretching backwards over his chair with a yawn. He really can’t concentrate. At all. Everything is distracting him right now. The tick of his watch, the silk socks sliding down his calves, the way his phone isn’t buzzing with texts, the shadow looming over him. Dick rolls upwards from his stretch to find the guy from downstairs standing over him, two cups of coffee in hand.

“Here,” he says, setting a cup on the table. “You looked like you were having a bad night. Thought this could help.”

Dick pops the cover from the coffee and breathes in the rich, dark scent. “Fuck, yes. Yes, I’m having a bad  _life_  right now. Thank you.” He gestures at the seat next to him. “Sit down you magnificent hero and tell me your name.”

The guy’s soft lips quirk into a grin, charmed despite himself probably. Dick has that effect on people. “Jason,” he says, folding into his chair.

“Grayson,” Dick replies. “I really appreciate this.”

“No worries.” Jason nods towards the humming laptop and various papers and books spread across the table. “What’s all this?”

“Casework. The kind you won’t have to worry about until you graduate, hopefully. Unless you’ve done your internship.”

Jason’s eyes drift for a second before he grins. “I’ve already taken care of that bullshit.”

“Good,” Dick says, emphatically even. He takes a sip of his coffee, a mocha latte that tastes perfect. “Fuck I needed that.”

“I thought so,” Jason agrees. “Did you lose your wallet or something? I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice.”

Dick shakes his head. “Do not ask that question. It is a leading question, and it’s about to get you trapped in a rant about my day.”

And Jason must be his guardian angel because he only shrugs and says, “I can handle it.”

They talk for a long time. Well, Dick talks with a few timely, insightful, or witty comments from Jason. Dick begins at day one of the internal drama that started when he was asked to join–more like frog-marched into–the strategy team. He manages to avoid case details while spinning a colorful tale of woe, involving the infighting, the genuine attempts to help that lead to disaster, the disaster that arouse when his attempts to help were discovered and the firms heavies came down to on them all to ask why Dick’s motion wasn’t used. His ears are still stinging from that conversation, the way he held back from defending himself.

“And to top it all off,” Dick says, winding down. “Hudson U might not go to the playoffs after that call on Saturday. That penalty was bullshit and everybody knows it.”

“Poor baby,” Jason says with a laugh.

“You’re not a Knight’s fan?” Dick asks, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m a fan of the Scarlet Knight. The one  _true_  knight,” Jason replies with a pride that always floats around a Rutgers alum.

“I knew you were too good to be true,” Dick says, setting Jason off in another round of laughter. “This is what I mean about my bad life, though. Something good happens and then boom,” he claps his hands together, “Rutgers fan. Or research. Arriving at the courthouse at the asscrack of dawn to make sure a motion is first on the docket for review. Lifting boxes heavier than twenty pounds, which is a violation somewhere. Stress, stress, stress, stress, stress, stress,  _stress_. So now, I can’t concentrate.”

“I won’t lie, it does sound like you need a little stress relief.” Jason sounds relaxed, solicitous even, but also coolly confident as if he hadn’t delivered an innuendo to Dick on a fucking platter.

A little stress relief. It’s a simply phrase, an innocuous throw away sentence really, but it hits Dick with the force of a wrecking ball. Because it’s not all that mild, simple or innocuous, not with the way Jason’s spread like he’s waiting for Dick to climb on.

Dick has always had good instincts, and they’ve been praised by multiple people at multiple times in his life. Bruce did when he encouraged Dick’s shift from public safety to pre-law. Alfred did repeatedly when Dick chose the high road through school. His immediate bosses do when they praise him for a job well done at work, until this project at least. Right now, his instincts are screaming that a six-foot sexy guy who brought him coffee in a near empty library isn’t around for Dick’s mental well-being.

And Dick leaps at the opportunity with all the certainty of a man who trusts his instincts.

“Yeah,” Dick says, a gentle smile on his lips. “That sounds so good right now,” his fingers curl around his cup and slide up and down dragging the coffee sleeve along for the slow ride, “Stress relief.”

Jason stares at his cup and the suggested motion for long seconds, so many seconds. Too many seconds. Dick’s leg begins to jiggle under the table wondering if maybe he got it wrong. Finally, Jason answers.

“I could help you with that, but only if you don’t mind a little unnecessary roughness.” It could be a joke, a call back to their brief foray into college rivalries, but Jason says it so low Dick can feel it in his gut. He shifts in the chair, and Dick gaze boldly follows the way Jason’s hips rock up slightly. The way the worn jeans over his incredible thighs and bunch at his groin. All the blood in his body grows hot and then rushes down to his lap. He took the leap and he was right.

“Not too rough. I’m pretty fragile right now,” Dick says with a wink. “But I wouldn’t mind if you take charge.”

Jason leans into Dick’s space bring his haunting gaze a little closer. “So, if I pulled your hair a little and whispered dirty things in your ear and made you my boy for a while?”

Dick swallows thickly. “I'd be into that, yeah. In fact, I need that. Right now.” A tilt of his leg spreads his thighs open revealing how much that turns him on.

They stare at one another and then, unbeknownst to Dick, Jason throws the rest of his tattered ethics out the window and then stands. “Come with me.”

It happens so fast, the command, the way Jason turns his back and heads for the entry way and giving Dick nothing but views of his wide shoulders, trim waist, and powerful thighs carrying him away. Away?

Dick nearly fall out of his seat in his scramble to follow, but he stands, a little too quickly. It takes a few seconds to grab his satchel and laptop, then he dashes to the wide, _empty_ library hallway. He spins in a slow circle, thinking he's about to crack, he's imagined this entire thing, but he spies Jason striding towards the fifth-floor stairwell. Dick trots behind him. Trots. Not runs. It’s a near thing though.

He’s no stranger to bold sexual exploits, but it’s been awhile since he’s had this. This tall, dark, exceedingly hot stranger leading him somewhere. This feeling of excitement unspooling in his body making his palms sweat and his gait a little uneven. This rush of need dribbling hot and thin inside his pants.

The stacks fall away to the library proper with the tall bookshelves wide corridors. It’s late and this floor seems empty. Perfect fucking conditions. Dick mentally high-fives himself and then goes back to watching that round ass and those thick fucking thighs in front of him. He thinks they’re going to the bathroom or something (and that’d be undergrad all over again, Dick starts to tingle with those memories.) Jason leads them past the bathroom, through the stacks to the study studios, which are just enclosed cubicles with two chairs and a short table.

The first one is occupied, but the next nine aren’t. Jason draws them into the last one. He shuts the door, cuts on the light, tosses his leather jacket over the opaque window and removes his soft red hoodie in one seamless motion. Dick licks his lips, impressed. Jason turns back pausing when he finds Dick’s hot gaze spreading over him. He folds his arms, emphasizing how fit he really is, all hard pectoral muscles, curving biceps, strong forearms tight abs beneath his tee that angle down to his…. 

Jason coughs pointedly and Dick’s gaze snap up to the cocky grin aimed at him.

“Strip.”

Dick is so ridiculously turned on by the simple command. Or maybe it’s just Jason, coolly composed and staring like this moment means nothing to him. Dick is just a whim on his open schedule. Dick narrows his eyes repeating that word in his mind. He’ll show Jason what he can do.

Starting slowyl, Dick kicks of his shoes then lets his satchel slip down to the floor. Next, Dick unclips his cufflinks and unbuttons his shirt. He shimmies out of his shirt and shoves his hands into his pockets gripping the silk insert and pulling it taut over his round bottom. He turns and bends slightly before flicking his belt and button open. The trousers slip from his legs and he’s fully hard in his trim briefs. Dick tosses a coy glance over one shoulder. There’s appreciation in Jason’s eyes. It heats over his skin like a caress. It’s time to show off a little. Slowly winding in a circle, waving his hips side to side, leaning forward as he drags the elastic from his hips and folds the underwear down below his butt. He yelps when he receives a sharp smack to his bottom and then arms wrapping around him. Jason has unbelted and unbuckled his jeans between here and the wall. There’s nothing between them now except for the thin cotton of Jason’s underwear and that’s practically nothing at all.

“I said strip, not tease,” Jason grumbles, shoving the briefs down and pressing against him. He wraps a hot hand around Dick’s cock and it feels so good his knees nearly buckle. “Damn, you’re close aren’t you. Can you hold out long enough for me to get inside you?”

He’s squeezed and groped through the question, fingers ghosting at his slit before stroking him slowly. The feel of Jason’s cock against him, the weight and heat of it, the thought of it pulsing inside him takes Dick’s breath away. His toes curls, his breath hitches. It only takes a few kisses along his jaw and some rough strokes before he coming. He’s coming so hard his vision whites out and his legs shake and Dick chokes on his embarrassment.

Dick Grayson has an amazing sexual history! And in none of it does he come in less than two minutes. It’s humiliating. His face gets so red, especially when he settles from the orgasm enough to feel the rumbling laughter against his neck. God, god, not that. He stutters out excuses. “This never. I’m so stressed. I wasn’t prepared. It’s been a while for me. This has never happened before."

“Yeah, I’ll bet this hasn’t happened to you before. Pretty boy like you has probably never had to wait long for a good fuck, huh? You must’ve really needed it, huh? Just the hint of it has you popping like a little bottle rocket,” Jason whistles between his teeth, the sound tiny and sad.

“It really hasn’t. It.” Dick gasps when his balls are tugged and squeezed and molded in a big, hot palm that coaxes out more excuses. “Work. Stress. ‘m single. I haven’t had time to.”

“How long has it been?”

Dick’s mind races backwards through his schedule from today to the Tuesday before last when he was placed on the strategy team. He’d been running on fumes since he started. “Ah. Ah. Two weeks. I couldn’t hold. I just. I needed it.”

“Real bad, I can tell. I mean two weeks is such a long time. Poor baby.” The words are soft against Dick’s cheek, but the tone is mocking. “You know, there’s a word for boys like you. Boys who need it.”

Moaning low in his throat, Dick shakes his head. He shuts his eyes trying to deny the flimsy accusation even though his already pounding heart leaps and shudders excitedly.

“Come on. You know what it is.” Jason’s lips trail up to his ear and he sucks the tender lobe into his mouth, nips lightly with his teeth until Dick whines. “That’s it. Let it out for me. What should I call a boy like you?”

“Slut.” The word escapes his lips with a sibilant hiss.

“Mmm. Is that what I should call you? That’s real good.” Jason kisses his cheek. “I like a boy who knows himself. Say it again for me.”

It’s embarrassing how much one word shakes him, how good he feels after saying it even if his cheeks are flushed and his eyes hot because Dick hates lying and he’s lying right now. He’s not one. He’s not.

“You just told me you were, baby,” Jason argues. “One more time. I love hearing it from your mouth.”

Gentle fingers slide further between his legs. They begin massaging his perineum in slow circles. It sends an electric jolt through him, something hot and awakening all at once. His cock twitches, interested and slowly growing fat. It hurts. It’s too soon. Dick doesn’t need it again right now. He’s not a. He’s not a.

“Slut,” Dick moans. “But I’m not. I’m not,” he whispers. “I’m not a.”

Slut.

The word ricochets through Dick’s brain, neon yellow behind his eyes.

Jason’s tongue slithers over the back of his neck. “I was hoping you were, since you went off in my hand leaving me high and dry.”

Dick shudders. He didn’t mean to, he didn’t. “I’ll make it up to you.” Wet fingers slide between his lips and begins sucking before he’s even asked.

“Yeah. I bet you will,” Jason says.

Jason’s fingers are thick, salty and spotted with the taste of bitter come. They stroke over his tongue and teeth, pushing a little deeper until Dick chokes and sputters and drools. There’s a short reprieve where he’s allowed to recover, catch his breath, slurp up his unsightliness, and then Jason’s fingers start moving again. Dick moans, moans louder encouraged by Jason’s near constant stream of soft kisses and praise.

“You sound so good, baby. Let me hear you, let me hear you. It’s just me and you here. Let me know how much you need it.” Jason licks the back of his neck, grabs a thin bit of skin and bites. “What do you need?”

“Your cock,” Dick brays around the fingers in his mouth. “I need it. I need. In my mouth. Please I want.” His voice fades into a hungry whine when Jason drops two items on the table.

A gold foiled condom and a packet of lube.

“Pick one,” Jason whispers.

Dick stares at his options sucking hard on the two fingers in his mouth, body cranking higher and higher. He can’t make this decision, he can’t. It’s impossible even if it’s obvious. He can’t want what he wants, shouldn’t crave it, won’t ask for it. He whimpers, head pounding when he speaks.

“Lube.”

He feels the grin pressed against his cheek.

“I thought you were a good boy,” Jason whispers, then pushes Dick down until his chest presses against the table. Dick shakes his head. The faux wood is absolutely freezing, his nipples sting with it, and the denial spills from his tongue. Usually he is but right now he’s not, he’s not, he’s a, he’s a. Jason voice curls ear, darkly soothing. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re my boy, remember, and I’m the only one that knows your secret.”

His feet are kicked out until his hamstrings twitch and then two big hands spread over his ass, spread his ass open. Another too long pause, so Dick's pleasure can twist and slither through his veins, then.

“You’ve got a pretty little pussy, baby.”

The words send wave of heat over Dick’s body. He turns his head to rest his cheek on the table but the chill doesn’t help. He yelps at the wet splash over his hole. The lube is lukewarm at best and it feels dirty. So dirty and so good. Jason slides his finger around and then inside prompting a hiss from Dick. His hands scrabble over the tables smooth surface desperate to hold onto something. The pressure fades soon enough Jason begins to open him.

“This is going surprisingly easy,” Jason comments. A second finger taps along Dick’s hole, coaxing its way inside. “Sorry for underestimating you.” He sounds genuinely apologetic. Amusement churns below that façade making Dick grit his teeth.

“Muscle control.” His growl trials into a whimper when thick knuckles fan into a vee then collapse together, thrusting harder each time.

Jason’s laughter washes over him. “Are you telling me that you’re willing this pussy open so you can get my cock, Grayson? Is that supposed to convince me you're not a slut? Because it's not working. At all.” 

Another finger joins the first wet with lube. They spread and circle, thrust and pull and tender the knot of pleasure inside of him.

It’s good, it’s good, but it’s not enough.

“Are you ever going to fuck me?” Dick asks, hating the whine in his voice or how his cock twitches and drips on the table when Jason laughs. He likes that sound so much.

“Patience,” Jason says. “You need to work on it.” He laughs again, such a warm sound, fingers slowing, and Dick’s eyes roll into his head when they stretch wide to accommodate the tip of Jason’s cock.

Dick makes a noise, he knows he does because the rush of air clogs his throat, but he can’t hear it. It’s as if every other sense shut down so he can feel the thick wet head of Jason’s cock breach him. Only it doesn’t. The fingers slip out and Dick’s greedy little hole twitches and grasps but can’t take . He starts to tremble and push back searching because he wants it, he needs it. Jason’s breath scours his shoulders, his lips melt against his skin, every kiss a torture, every word a delay. He thought Jason was going to help him, take care of him,  _please_.

“I will, baby, I will. Here.” Fingers press against lips again and Dick takes them, appeased if only for a moment. He rises to the balls of his feet and arches his back showing off the hole Jason should really care about. He moans when Jason presses back against him, a thick iron heat nudging, nudging and then popping through the last of Dick’s resistance, so good, so good Dick whines and pleads and sucks because he’s grateful, so grateful, but mostly because he wants more.

Jason gives him more. Inch after inch sliding into him in one smooth, unstoppable thrust until they’re flush together, and Dick can almost feel the drumming beat of Jason’s pulse against his back, between his thighs.

“You feel good, you feel so good, baby,” Jason murmurs between slow wet kisses. “Do you feel good?” He nips beneath Dick’s jaw halting the frantic nod that nearly caused him to choke. There’s still fingers in his mouth. He begins sucking them again. “Hold on,” Jason warns.

Hold on? Hold on? Dick’s hands are sliding over the table to keep him upright. He can’t hold on t—Dick wraps his fingers around Jason’s wrist and forearm, humming at the power densely packed there.

Dick loses himself in the motion, the steady pounding, the shake of his limbs and the shudder in his breath panting around the cage of Jason’s fingers. He’d been warned and he’d wanted and now he has it, slapping skin, the burrowing heat of a cock in his ass, hard, fast,  _rough_. He’s being fucked, fucked so good he can’t stop moaning, not when Jason tugs his hair, not when Jason slaps his ass, not when the table’s edge burns at his hips. It’s exactly what he needed and still he begs for more.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please, Please, Please, Jason.” 

“I know, I know, it’s okay, baby. You’ve been so good for me, you can come.” Jason lips move against his skin, his voice curls around his ear so softly commanding, so sensually seductive. “Be my good boy and come.”

It happens all at once, an unexpected rush of pleasure and Dick comes in quick spurts over the table. Every care, every worry, every shame is fucked out of him, pattering with each thrust. He’s moaning again, long and low, moaning because Jason only goes harder, fucking him through his orgasm and beyond until he comes as well, white heat scalding all the way to Dick’s belly. 

Dick sags forward undone. He needed this, he needed this, fuck, fuck, thank you, he needed this. He needs more. He needs this every day of his life. He could fall in love with this.

There’s more laughter, but Dick doesn’t care because he’s floating right now in that perfect place where his heart is racing but his mind is slowing.

The amazing high is extended by Jason’s soft hands wandering over his shoulders and back in a lazy massage. Eventually, Dick stirs and starts reaching for his things, albeit clumsily. His knees thighs quake so badly, he can barely stand but that’s also because he feels so relaxed, like the entire weight of the world melted from his shoulders. He fumbles with his clothes for a few minutes before Jason snorts and steps into help. Jason slips his briefs back over his hips, the trousers next, shirt, buttons, everything until Dick’s completely redressed. Dick wraps arms around his shoulders too relaxed to care if Jason tenses. He kisses the hollow of Jason’s throat.

“You’re already dressed?” he asks, lips pouting. “I wanted a glimpse of that fabulous cock.”

Jason snort turns into laughter. He relaxes, bringing a hand up to brush Dick’s hair from his face. “Sorry, baby.”

Dick turns into the touch. “Next time?”

Jason eyes darken. He tilts Dick’s chin up telegraphing the kiss, and Dick doesn’t mind. He closes his eyes, parts his lips, and welcomes Jason here too. It’s deep, demanding, and Dick fights but only enough to surprise a moan or two from Jason’s mouth. They break apart, both breathing hard, and Dick knows he’s won this round when Jason smiles at him, soft and a little sad.

“Yeah, maybe next time.”

Jason’s arms tighten around him and they kiss some more. Jason’s hands are gentle now, touching Dick with a hesitance that seems wildly strange when he was just slapping Dick’s ass. It’s gentle, so gentle and so different, Dick leans closer, craving more. When the part again, lips swollen and slick, Jason asks, softly, “Feeling better now? Think you can make it back to your desk?”

Dick tilts his head pretending to consider how good he feels even though he’s practically buzzing right now, a lazy, happy buzz. “Yes, so much better. Consider my stress relieved. As for getting back to my desk, well, I was thinking of going out to my car. You’re welcome to join me if you want.” He tosses Jason a coy wink, but it bounces off the flat look on Jason’s face.

“Maybe next time,” Jason says, like there’s not a wall already building around him. He disentangles himself from Dick, gently, but quickly, pressing a final kiss to Dick’s forehead, and that feels sad too.

Dick won’t stand for sadness or maybes. He writes down his cell number on the back of his business card and then tells Jason to enter it into his phone now on the pretext of coffee, dinner, or “solicited dick picks.” Then he requests a text, which Jason promptly sends. Dick kisses him again.

“Thank you, I mean it, Jason,” he whispers. “For everything.”

They exit the studio quietly. Dick shoulders his bag, already wondering if it’s too soon to plan for another hook up, when his eyes slide over a sheet of paper taped to the column in front of them. He reads it once, twice, a third time, cheeks flushing deeper shades of pink. Jason glances at him and then the sign then begins laughing uproariously.

NO SUCKING DICK IN THE LIBRARY!!!!1!!1

 

**Epilogue**

The courtroom gasps, stunned by the prosecutions call for a new witness.

Kate squeezes her pencil so hard it snaps in two. She looks over her shoulder and spears Dick with a look that could melt lava. He nods in return. Neither of them saw this coming and that means they don’t have a plan. 

As the court comes to order, Dick frantically turns through the binder searching for any information about a new witness, who it might be, what loose end managed to escape their team. He’s pulling another binder from beneath Steph’s lax arm when his phone buzzes. It’s a short message, three words from a number he’d all but given up on.

_I’m sorry baby_

Dick’s brow furrows in confusion. What could Jason possibly be apologizing for? He'd be angry if he had the time to be distracted. He has to set it aside for later.

“Your honor,” Oliver’s voice rings through the room. “Our witness has arrived.”

The door opens as if on cue. As one, the jury, prosecution, defense, clerks, and gallery turn eager to see who walks through the great oak doors, but it’s Dick’s heart that stops when glass green eyes sweep over the courtroom. They find him, and although Jason’s face remains impassive, his eyes grow soft and a little sad.


End file.
